The Christmas Angel

252 Pages·2005·1.12 MB·English

by  Thomas Kinkade

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The Christmas Angel
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Christmas
The
Angel
O
A Cape Light Novel
Thomas Kinkade
& Katherine Spencer
b
BERKLEY BOOKS, NEW YORK
A ParachutePress Book
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are
used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is
entirely coincidental.
Christmas Angel, The: A Cape Light Novele
A BERKLEY Book / published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2005 by The Berkley Publishing Group.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by
mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes
copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to
criminal and civil liability.
For information address:
The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is
http://www.penguinputnam.com
ISBN: 0-7865-6198-X
A BERKLEY BOOK®
BERKLEY Books first published by Berkley Publishing Group,
a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY and the "B" design are trademarks belonging to
Penguin Putnam Inc.
Electronic edition: December 2005
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Dear Friends
O
W
HEN I WAS A YOUNG BOY, ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHRIST-
mas traditions was trimming the tree. We had many orna-
ments, but the ones I liked best were those that had been handed down
from generation to generation, and I hung them with great care, select-
ing very special places on the tree for their display.
But there was one ornament that everyone in my family agreed was
the most beautiful. It was the angel ornament that topped the tree. I can
still picture her. She wore a red velvet gown. Her long blond hair
sparkled under a golden halo, and her gossamer wings shimmered with a
silver glow. She was unquestionably our most treasured ornament, the
one that made the tree complete.
That Christmas ornament was my first vision of an angel, and since
then, I’ve seen many like her, and I’ve met many too, but the ones I’ve
actually known didn’t have golden halos and shimmering wings.
An angel may be a stranger who lends a helping hand or a friend
who knows when you’re in need. Or it may be someone who reminds
you of your own capacity for goodness and love.
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Dear Friends
In Cape Light, as in my life, angels take many forms.Emily War-
wick realizes she’s been blessed by an angel when she finds an abandoned
baby in the church crèche, a baby who changes her life, challenging her
to reexamine and deepen her bonds of love.
Reverend Ben, struggling with self-doubt, will find angels at work in
his own congregation.
As you enter Cape Light, I hope you enjoy your time with the good
people there and the angels they meet, and my Christmas wish for you is
that God’s angels will bring the gift of hope and faith and love into your
life too.
—Thomas Kinkade
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Chapter One
O
E
MILY FOUND THE BABY PURELY BY ACCIDENT. LATER, LOOKING
back, she decided it hadn’t been an accident at all. It was one of
those things that was simply meant to be.
She’d nearly skipped her morning run that day, and realized later that
a few minutes on the clock either way would have made all the difference.
She could have turned onto a different path. Or she could have been so
caught up in her rambling thoughts, she would have missed that tiny
flicker of movement in a place where it definitely shouldn’t have been.
It was the day after Thanksgiving, an unofficial holiday with schools
and many offices closed and most people sleeping off the bounty of the
day before. Emily had rolled over when the alarm sounded, snuggling
deep under the down quilt. But finally she forced herself to get up out of
bed, pull on running clothes, and creep downstairs, shoes in hand.
She sipped a quick cup of coffee and pictured her husband, Dan,
still sound asleep. She sighed and double knotted her laces. Better run
now than regret it later when her clothes felt too tight. She did some
quick stretches, grabbed her gloves, and headed out the door.
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Thomas Kinkade and Katherine Spencer
The cold morning air was like a slap in the face. She stretched and
started at a slow pace, drawing in deep breaths, exhaling frosty clouds.
There had only been a dusting of snow so far, but the legendary New
England winter was quickly setting in.
Emerson Street was empty; the only sound was her own breath and
the beat of her steps on the pavement. She pushed herself around the
corner and headed down the long hill on Beacon Road to the village. She
liked to run to the village green and along the harbor before looping
back. As the mayor of Cape Light, she sometimes felt her early morning
treks were a way of checking up on things, a quiet surveillance of her
domain. It was silly to think that, she knew. You couldn’t tell much by
merely glancing at the outside of houses or stores. But still she felt as if
this tour kept her in touch with the beating heart of the place.
She rounded the turn onto Main Street. The wide thoroughfare
stood silent, the Victorian buildings and old-time storefronts like a
painting on a Christmas card that captured an elegant, bygone era. The
shops and restaurants were decorated for the holidays, the window dis-
plays filled with gentle slopes of fake snow, sparkling stars, and gilded-
winged angels. Bright pine wreaths with red bows brightened the
wrought-iron lampposts. Holiday garlands swooped across the avenue,
and each of the parking meters had been covered with red and white
stripes, creating a row of free-parking-for-shoppers candy canes. The vil-
lage maintenance crew hadn’t reached the end of the street yet, but she
knew they’d complete the job today. Tonight was the annual Christmas
tree lighting on the green. Everything had to be ready by then.
It was hard to believe the holidays were here again. It felt as if she
and Dan had held their highly original and very public New Year’s wed-
ding ceremony on the green just weeks ago. Now here they were, almost
a year later. The months had passed in such a happy blur, it was impos-
sible to describe.
It was one thing to find love when you were young: that was ex-
pected. But when you’ve all but given up and it comes at you out of the
clear blue, you appreciate it in a different—and deeper—way.
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The Christmas Angel
How many tree lightings had she presided over now? Into her second
term as mayor, she was losing track. But she loved her job, the demands
and challenges of it, too. She loved feeling she made the lives of people
in this town better in some small way. That was a privilege, she knew,
and a blessing.
Where Main Street met the harbor, Emily turned right and ran
along the far side of the green. Out at the end of the dock that ran to
her left, she spotted a lone but familiar figure—a black knit cap pulled
over his head, his body huddled against the cold in a thick coat, a yellow
Labrador sitting patiently at his feet.
Digger Hegman and Daisy were a common sight at the waterfront in
the early morning. But Emily didn’t call out a greeting. She knew Digger
was deep in his contemplations, appraising the harbor and even the birds
for his daily forecast, or maybe lost in recollections of his own days at sea.
She headed instead toward the stone facade of Bible Community
Church, which faced the green. As usual, the church’s decorations this
year were beautiful in their simplicity, a thick pine wreath on the
wooden doors out front and a large crèche, with almost life-size figures,
sheltered by tall trees.
Emily ran past, giving the display a quick glance. Her thoughts
raced ahead to the workday. Village Hall would be empty today; it
would be a good time to catch up on the paperwork that seemed to flow
up from some inexhaustible stream below her in-box.
A few steps past the church doors, she slowed and looked back over
her shoulder. Had she seen something moving in the crèche? Something
in the cradle?
It couldn’t have been the plaster figure of the infant Jesus, she rea-
soned. The figure of the baby wasn’t added until Christmas Eve night.
Except for some straw, the wooden cradle should have been empty.
But she was almost positive she’d seen something in there. A squirrel
or maybe a cat? No, whatever it was it had looked too big, even for a cat.
Emily glanced back again at the display, sure now that there was
something odd about it.
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Thomas Kinkade and Katherine Spencer
She turned and retraced her path, then slowed to a walk as she
reached the crèche. She stood stone still, mesmerized by the sight of a
tiny hand rising out of a bundle of rags and straw in the carved wooden
cradle.
It couldn’t be. Yet there it was again, as clear as the sun above. A tiny
hand. Popping up out of a mound of cloth.
Emily ran forward and pushed the corner of a tattered blanket aside.
A rosy cheeked baby wearing a pink wool cap stared up at her.
The baby blinked huge blue-grey eyes. Then suddenly its tiny face
crumpled and it began to cry.
Emily scooped up the child and the wad of blankets that cocooned
it. Bits of straw clung to the precious bundle.
“There, there. It’s okay. It’s all right now,” she soothed the baby.
She lifted the child to her shoulder and gently patted its back. Who
in the world would do such a thing? How long had the child been out here?
The poor little thing must be freezing.
A hundred questions raced through her head as Emily jogged to the
church, the baby clutched to her chest. She yanked open one heavy door
and slipped into the dark, sheltering warmth. She walked into the sanc-
tuary and sat down in the last pew, resting the baby across her lap.
The baby had stopped crying but still fussed in her arms. Though
Emily loved children, she knew next to nothing about taking care of
them, especially tiny babies.
“Are you hungry? Is that it?” Emily said aloud. “I wish I had some-
thing for you.”
As if on cue, the baby started wailing again, louder this time, put-
ting all the force of its tiny body into the effort. The cries echoed around
the empty sanctuary, and Emily jumped to her feet and started pacing
up and down the middle aisle.
She bounced, patted, and cooed to no avail. Suddenly she noticed a
pacifier hanging from a long string that was attached someplace inside
the blankets. She took out her water bottle, cleaned off the pacifier, and
stuck it in the baby’s mouth.
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